


Reality Bites

by SoftObsidian74



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Challenge Response, F/M, Infidelity, Song Lyrics, Translation Available, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 08:38:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoftObsidian74/pseuds/SoftObsidian74
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reminiscing may trump your current reality (Song fic challenge)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reality Bites

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [А реальность кусается](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6930310) by [Mrs_N](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_N/pseuds/Mrs_N)



> This fic has been translated in Russian by Nataly, and can be found here: http://www.fanfics.me/index.php?section=3&id=59621

Song: Love Bites  
By: Def Leppard  
Year: 1987

 

_When you're alone, do you let go?  
Are you wild 'n' willin' or is it just for show?_

 

It was brief, but she was smart enough to know that brevity didn’t make it any less true.

It had been love. Some kind of love...at least for her.

When he had first come into her bookshop, she had cowered, looking for someone else to cover for her so that she could hide in the back. 

She had never been comfortable around him. And although she considered herself to be a forgiving person, she could never forget what he was, what he used to be.

And so she had hid, for those first few months, when he would visit. He had always come in on Tuesdays. Why Tuesdays, she didn’t know. 

He had a library of his own and could have gotten any one of his servants to come in and buy the books he would order. The titles of the books he would request never ceased to fascinate her. It was certainly an eclectic lot. 

But then one day, he had showed up on a Friday. She had been caught off guard, and didn’t have enough time to scurry away.

He had stood looking at her for a moment, not smiling, his demeanor as haunty and intimidating as ever. 

“Yes Mr. Malfoy, how can I help you? Were you expecting an order?” she had said, trying to keep her voice steady and calm.

“No, but I do have a special request,” he had said.

“Oh?”

“Have dinner with me,” he had drawled.

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh. 

She remembered him looking affronted. 

“I’m sorry, but I fail to see the humor in that.”

“You can’t see the humor in you, Lucius Malfoy, inviting me, Harry Potter’s best friend, and a Muggle-born to dinner? What would your wife say to that?”

Lucius had sniffed. “I’m not sure, but I am sure I absolutely do not care.”

Hermione had blinked. “Why are you asking me to dinner?” she remembered asking him suspiciously.

“Let’s just call it making amends,” he had said with what seemed to be some effort.

“You think dinner can do that?” she had asked, amazed at his nerve.

“It’s a start,” he had said, the trace of a smile at the corners of his lips.

She remembered the way she had dug her nails into her palms as she had told him ‘yes’.

 

_When I'm with you are you somewhere else?_  
Am I gettin' thru or do you please yourself?  
When you wake up will you walk out?  
It can't be love if you throw it about 

 

“I love you,” he had whispered in her ear, holding her hair back firmly in his hand.

“We can’t do this anymore,” she had said, turning her head into the pillow, afraid to face him, to face what she had done.

“You always say that afterwards,” he had mused, a hint of strained bitterness lacing his words.

“I mean it this time, you’re married, and I’m…I’m wrong for you,” she had said quietly.

He had let go of her hair and had begun tracing his hands along her back for a few moments before rising to dress.

 

_I don't wanna touch you too much baby  
'Cos making love to you might drive me crazy_

 

“Lucius, please…we said we wouldn’t again,” she had pleaded.

“You said that,” he had said in a low gravelly voice filled with lust and frustration.

“Why are you doing this? Nothing good will come from it,” she had breathed as he had rubbed himself against her aching sex.

“Nothing? Tell me that when I’m done ravishing you,” he had said as he drove himself into her wet heat.

“Oh, Lucius,” she had moaned as she caved in once more.

 

_I don't wanna touch you too much baby_  
'Cos making love to you might drive me crazy  
I know you think that love is the way you make it  
So I don't wanna be there when you decide to break it  
No! 

 

She had held her head in her hands and then had begun to fidget, looking out the window. 

She had done it again. She had cursed herself for being so weak.

When would this end? 

It was true, he had lit a fire inside of her that she had never known was possible. One touch and she would melt into a puddle, her body open and ready to please him in anyway she could. 

She didn’t understand. And everything had always made sense to her. She could reason better than most and she hardly ever had any problem solving any puzzle. 

Except for this. 

This man, her former nemesis…her lover.

He was married and she had always prided herself on her integrity. There was no integrity in sleeping with a married man, she knew that. 

She had had no illusions of him leaving his wife, kicking her out of the Manor and moving his Muggle-born mistress in to make her his new wife.

She was a smart girl and she knew Lucius well enough to know that for all of his passion, all of his sweet apologetic words, and all of his gifts, she was a liability, even in this new world that claimed to reject old racist notions of blood purity.

She was, and always would be, a Mudblood to many in his circle. And she could live with that. 

She could even live with the knowledge that he would probably one day grow tired of her and replace her with another. 

But what she could not tolerate, and would not allow, was falling in love with a man who would never make her his priority. She would not let her body or heart win out over reason.

It had to end.

 

_Love bites, love bleeds_  
It's bringin' me to my knees  
Love lives, love dies 

 

He had showed up at ‘their’ spot. They had been coming there for the past month, meeting in secret. He remembered hating hiding her away. 

And that day, he would never forget. At first, he had thought that that she was unusually late. 

Ten minutes had went by, and then twenty. After an hour, he had Apparated back into Diagon Alley, making his way to her bookshop. 

They had told him that she had been sick. 

Very well then, he had told himself that he’d come back another day. Tuesdays were best. 

He had come back for the next six Tuesdays only to find she was never there. 

And so he had tried Mondays, Wednesdays, and then Thursdays and Fridays. 

She had always managed to evade him, until one day his eyes had finally caught a glimpse of her, hiding by the Wizarding Recipe section in the back, where no one ever went.

 

_It's no surprise_  
Love begs, love pleads  
It's what I need 

 

He had pushed her into the corner, pressing his body against her. She had looked around with wild eyes. “Lucius, not here!”

“Then where? You’re avoiding me. You think you can end it…like this?”

“I told you last time, it was over,” she had said, shaking her head, trying not to look at him.

He had cupped her chin with his hand, holding it harshly. “You always say that. Now, I won’t be denied any longer,” he had whispered sternly.

“I’m sorry, Lucius, I can’t do this any more; I’m engaged now,” she had said, her eyes watering.

He had held his breath and had looked down at her small hand, searching for a ring. 

He remembered it being small, too small and insignificant for her. She had deserved better. 

She deserved him.

“You can’t,” he had said, setting his jaw.

“I can, and I will. You have a wife. You have a family. I want that, and you can’t give it to me. You won’t.”

“I can. I can give you anything you need.”

“As long as no one else finds out,” she had said, looking at him with simmering anger.

“I…”

“Will you leave her for me?” she had asked demandingly.

He had let her chin go, and had stood very still, regarding her closely as if trying to memorize every detail of her face, knowing it probably would be the last time he saw it this close.

She had nodded her head. “I always knew you wouldn’t. As much as you claim to love me, you’ll always love yourself more. Besides, could you really see yourself marrying a Muggle-born? What would your friends say, Lucius?”

He had stepped back from her. 

“I have to get back to work now, excuse me,” she had said, taking one last look at him and brushing past him.

He had stood there for several minutes, numb, drowning in the sinking feeling that he had just lost something precious or rather he had given it away for selfish pride and social standing in a world he didn’t really understand anymore.

 

_Do you tell lies and say that it's forever?  
Do you think twice, or just touch 'n' see?_

 

She was daydreaming again. Her thoughts snapped like a rubber band and then she was back. 

Back to reality. She straightened her skirt, and continued to catalogue the new shipment of magical recipe books that had come in. 

It had been a long long time ago and they had both had moved on in their own way. 

He was still married to her, and she was now married to her best friend. 

It would have never worked anyway. No one would have believed it, and least of all, none of them would have accepted it. 

She was certain that he had been lying. He couldn’t have loved her; if he had, he would have fought harder for her. She may have loved him, but that was inconsequential. What was the point of a one-sided love? 

She mentally scolded herself for thinking on it…for thinking of him. She doubted that he ever thought of her. 

It was only a few bloody moments of passion, that was what she told herself. That was all she had; tired, worn replayed memories that wouldn’t die. She tried to replace them with the face of her husband and her children as she checked her inventory list once more.

 

_When you make love, do you look in the mirror?  
Who do you think of, does he look like me?_

 

His thoughts drifted to the same familiar place. They always seemed to wander whenever he found himself alone. And he never felt more alone than when he was in his bed. 

It didn’t matter that his wife was snuggled next to him or that they had just made love. 

Or something. 

After being with Hermione, he knew what he and Narcissa did could never be called making love. 

“I love you, darling,” she said, kissing his cheek and settling back down to lay her head on his chest.

“Hmm,” Lucius hummed, staring up at the ceiling, but not looking at it at all. 

‘What was she doing right now?’ he wondered.

Was she at her bookshop, going over another list? 

Perhaps tending to the children. He had no doubt she’d make a good mother. 

Or was she under her husband, taking pleasure she had once sought from him. Did she think of him when she was in the grips of passion? Did the memory of his face, panting above hers in unbridled lust ever invade her thoughts when she approached release?

He looked down at the long blond hair splayed out over his chest as his wife caressed him the way she always did in the morning. 

“A Knut for your thoughts, Lucius,” she whispered.

He sighed. 

His thoughts, his memories, were worth more than Knuts; they were priceless. 

“I’m not thinking of anything, dear, nothing at all.”


End file.
